


Where The Wind Changed

by Gargant



Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Eventual Relationships, Gen, Tales of Berseria Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 06:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gargant/pseuds/Gargant
Summary: A promise-driven Malak and the two tagalong kids he picked up along the way. One of them hates everything; the other doesn't seem to know how he feels about *anything*. But that's cool! Zaveid'll help them get life all figured out, right?Y'know. Just as soon as he gets his *own* life sorted.[An AU where Silva stays with Zaveid, and the pair subsequently meet a young Dezel. Various chronological scenes spanning from post-Berseria all the way through to Zestiria, with potential cameos from the casts of either game! With Silva's presence, how much might change? A fic exploring the struggle for identity, and the impact one extra life can have on so many others.]





	Where The Wind Changed

**Author's Note:**

> For such a small amount of screentime, something about Silva and his fate really left an impact on me :C

The air was full of early spring, the damp of it misting through his hair and into his clothes as he sprinted through the forest. Beneath his bare feet, the moss was slick and slippery and littered with hidden stones that threatened to turn his ankles and leave him helpless. Dezel grit his teeth into a jagged snarl, bent his head lower, and threw every shred of strength he had left into staying ahead.

He'd been an idiot to think he could survive out here on his own. And now he was going to be a _dead_ idiot, because he could hear the steady relentless slap of monstrous feet smashing their way through the undergrowth behind him and there was no way he could even begin to fight so many of them and— Dezel burst through the treeline and skidded to a sharp halt, aware from the shapes of the air before him that he had reached a cliff edge. The crash of rapid water drifted up from below, surely just as deadly as what waited for him up here.

So this really _was_ it.

Dezel spun, gasping for lungfuls of precious air and balling his hands into tight, trembling fists. Fine then. If he had to die then he was going to die fighting. No one would remember a ratty lost wind malak who disappeared into the middle of nowhere, but at least _he'd_ know he went down like a true malak should.

It wasn't as comforting as he'd hoped it would be, faced with half a dozen heaving ogres ready to crush him into pulp. But even so he held his ground, backed up to the cliff edge and the pounding rush of water. He wasn't going to just let them have him. He wasn't going to cry.

When the first one lurched forward, Dezel threw his arms over his head and bit down his scream.

But the strike never came. "Yo, kid!" Someone hollered at him, sounding so broad and confident that Dezel couldn't believe he hadn't picked up the other malak's presence any sooner. Then the air was alive with motion, the swift swing of something cutting through the spaces between them and slicing into ogre flesh. Like no weapon Dezel had ever known before, handled so deftly that this newcomer could only be a wind malak like himself.

The ogre bellowed and swung again and this time Dezel responded, flinging himself to the ground and rolling away from the echoing smash of the ogre's club crunching into the rock beneath. "Do something!" Dezel heard himself yell, furious that he was having to depend on a stranger. But _hell_ , it was better than being dead. He'd have time to hate himself for this later. "Help me!" He yelled again, and then there was a snap of cool breeze and suddenly the malak was standing right in front of him.

"What d'you _think_ I'm doing? Get up, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Dezel snapped back, clambering to his feet and trying to get a sense of just who this guy even was. His hair was mostly loose, hanging down below his shoulders and tied back only enough to keep it away from his face. Not something Dezel ever had to worry about. The guy was braced to fight, completely in control, breathing as though nothing about any of this could ever be considered scary. Tall. With muscles. And... his shirt open, for some reason.

"Listen up, you all, because I'll only say this once!" The guy called out. Dezel drew a little closer despite himself. "You leave now and we're all good, but you come one step closer to my new buddy here and we're gonna have problems. And I'm usually a pretty mellow guy! But ol’ Zaveid here doesn't turn his back on little dudes in need, and he sure as hell isn't worried about anything you schmucks think you're gonna throw at him." Zaveid flicked his wrist and then that pendulum thing was hanging there, deadly sharp and prepared to strike. When Zaveid spoke again his voice had dropped to a smirking kind of growl, as though he might finally be about to get serious. "So what's it gonna be, boys?"

_Holy shit_ , Dezel thought, as starry-eyed as he'd ever been in his short miserable life. _This guy is_ **_cool_ ** _._

And maybe his opinion wouldn't have changed if Zaveid hadn't swung one arm back and smacked him right across the face.

"Oh crap— crap!" He heard Zaveid yelping, but by then he'd already stumbled, grasping his nose and screaming cusses he couldn't remember how he learned, and then suddenly there was nothing but empty air beneath his bare heels. He'd barely had time to make sense of the air rushing past before he'd ploughed into the churning water below, the current catching him instantly and dragging him beneath the surface.

He'd been prepared to die, up there on that cliff, but this was something else entirely. He couldn't swim. Water was rushing into his mouth which meant he'd tried to scream, and when he reached his grasping hands toward what should have been the surface they'd only scrapped helplessly against the riverbed. Then he tumbled end over end again and again, and every direction was a frenzy of white and blue. He couldn't breathe. He wasn't ever going to breathe again. And there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.

Not like a true malak, then. Only the same lost kid he'd always been. Maybe it was a good thing he was underwater. At least this way no one would know he'd cried at the end.

The end...

 

 

Breaking through the surface came with a sudden deafening crash of sound, the roar of water and the wheezing hacking sound of his own beleaguered throat. Dezel gulped for air, gulped and choked and gulped again, too concerned with _being alive_ to try and understand how it had happened. How he was floating _above_ the surface, with the air somehow rippling and solid beneath his trembling arms. It had to be some sort of arte suspending him above the water, but light-headed and struggling for breath made it impossible to care about the details.

He'd been so certain he was going to die. He'd been so certain _twice_. When he was finally lowered down to the stony shoreline Dezel scrambled across the slick pebbles, putting as much distance between himself and that damn river as he could manage. He could feel the way his palms had been grazed open against the river rocks, and already the coolness of the misty air was beginning to seep through his sodden clothing and set its chill deep into his bones.

And he wasn't alone here.

Another malak, much smaller and slighter than that other guy had been. A kid. "You don't need to be scared," He said, in a voice that wasn't quite smiling, and Dezel was about to snap that he _wasn't_ scared when the kid continued. "Zaveid will look after you."

"Zaveid!" Dezel spat back furiously, clutching stones between his battered fingers. "That idiot almost got me killed! You think he's gonna protect anyone? Those ogres have probably smeared him by now. He's dead!"

The kid all but surged to his feet, suddenly radiating a conviction that hadn't been there a moment before. "No," He said, so simple but so sure that Dezel almost believed it. "Zaveid can't die."

"Wait—" Dezel barely started, but by then the kid had spun away, sprinting into the sloping woodland and back upriver. "You're just gonna get killed too!" He yelled, but the damn kid didn't even hesitate.

Cursing, Dezel jumped to his feet and pelted after him, his own heart still thundering haphazardly in his throat. "You'll get killed!" He tried again, chasing after the stumbling rush of movement still keeping pace ahead of him.

"I don't care!" The kid shouted back, in a voice that sounded like it wasn't made for shouting at all. "I won't let Zaveid get eaten!"

Dezel clenched his teeth and tried to remember when anyone had said anything about being eaten. He'd never run so much in one day, his lungs and palms and legs burning from the exertion, but still he struggled to keep up with the lunatic rushing off ahead of him. Why was he even bothering? Did he owe this kid something for saving his life—if it even _was_ this kid who'd managed to pull him from the water?

His cheek was starting to swell, an uncomfortable pressure pushing up beneath his eye. So maybe _that_ was a good enough reason. If he didn't owe this kid nothing, he sure as _hell_ owed that damn Zaveid a thing or two. If that idiot _was_ still alive up there.

Trying to find familiarity in the dense forest was a waste of time—when they finally burst through the treeline it was almost as shocking as it had been the first time. Dezel skidded to a halt, chest heaving and eyes almost watering, and ahead of him he could hear the crazy mystery kid struggling for breath as well.

Surrounding them were four ogre bodies, maybe dead or maybe unconscious. The rest were gone, fled or thrown from the cliff, which left only— "Hey, kids!" Zaveid waved at them, his voice a cheerful grin. As if this were just a normal casual day and nothing had even happened. Dezel wasn't sure if that meant Zaveid was an ever bigger idiot than he'd realised, or if—maybe—Zaveid actually _was_ cool after all.

"Zaveid!" The kid finally managed to yelp out, dashing forward in a final flurry of energy to throw himself around Zaveid's leg. Dezel couldn't see it, but he could hear the tearfulness that resonated in the kid's voice. "Zaveid, you can't die!"

There was no good reason that that should make Dezel feel guilty, but somehow it did. He squirmed, too exhausted to make a quick exit but too embarrassed to want to stay with these weirdos any longer. Zaveid had no such hesitation, scooping the whiny kid aloft as though he didn't weigh a thing. "Whoa, Silva, buddy, it's cool! It'll take a lot more than that to do me in, you know!" And then he pulled Silva closer, balanced him on one cocked hip and poked at his face with his opposite hand. "Look at you getting all choked up! You're growing up on me!"

_What's grown up about that?_ Dezel wanted to spit, but then Zaveid finally seemed to notice him. "Man, what happened to your face?" He asked with all the innocence in the world, and Dezel could hardly keep himself from exploding.

"You did, you jackass! You stupid idiot! You almost got me killed! I could've drowned down there! You hit me and then you let me fall! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Details, schm-etails, what's done is done, right?" Zaveid plonked Silva back to the ground, still giving off the same cheerful air as before. "The important thing is we're all good now, right? Yo Silva, did you pull our boy here outta the river?"

Dezel felt the air move with the shape of Silva's nod. "I used an arte," He replied, and his voice had dropped back to the same placid not-quite-smiling tone that Dezel had first heard him use. Like he might but happy, if he only knew what it meant. Something about that felt familiar. Dezel shook the thought from his mind, pulling his arms in close against his body. Now that they weren't running any more his drenched clothing was sticking back down against his skin, drawing with it the bitter touch of cool spring air. He didn't want to let them see him shivering, especially when that Zaveid was standing with there with his jacket open.

Fortunately, it seemed as though Zaveid was as oblivious about this as he was about everything else. "Did he thank you?" Zaveid asked, and it took Dezel a moment to realise what was being referred to. Then he grit his teeth, guessing more than sensing the expectant looks that were surely now being cast in his direction.

"Thanks," He muttered, then balled his fists and jerked his chin up, glowering. "But I wouldn't have needed saving if it wasn't for you!"

"Oh yeah?" Zaveid shot back, oozing just the sort of cocky confidence Dezel wished he could afford. "Kinda seemed to me that if we hadn't shown up when we do you'd probably be a chew toy right about now."

The fact it was true only made Dezel clench his fists all the tighter. "You don't know that."

"Well, sure!" Zaveid said, and just as quickly as that he was goofy again, throwing his arms wide in an expansive shrug. "But I know you must be damn cold standing there like that. How about we make ourselves a fire and get all _heated up_ , know what I'm saying?"

It sounded like the kind of easy flirtation that came from someone who didn’t even realise they were doing it, but it still made Dezel back up a wary step. Just because they'd helped him before, didn't mean they were suddenly trustworthy. "How do I know you won't—"

"What, rob you? No offence kid, but I don't think you've got anything we want. I mean, like, where're your damn _shoes?_ "

Infuriatingly, Dezel felt his face growing hot. "None of your business!" He snapped, and it damn well _wasn't_ their business if the only shoes he'd ever had had gotten so worn out that they'd been falling off his feet. Stupid smug bastards with their... stupid comfortable shoes.

"Sheesh, sorry!" And then suddenly Zaveid was behind him again, just the way he'd done before when the ogres had been about to attack. Dezel yelped and then hated himself for it, tried to spin and raise his arms in self-defense, but Zaveid was just too damn quick—something leathery dropped down over his head like a blanket, bringing with it a rush of entrapment. Dezel scrambled to free himself, too slow in recognising Zaveid's jacket for what it was. At least this time Zaveid couldn't _see_ his red-faced embarrassment. "C'mon, you're shivering like crazy. Just hang with us for a while, 'kay? Bet we can rustle up some food as well, if you're into that."

Dezel couldn't think of one single reason why he'd want to bother with something as pointless as eating. But the jacket sitting over his head was supple and inviting, holding a warm fragrance that must have been—well, Zaveid's smell, he guessed. _Gross_. But he couldn't keep himself from tugging it around his shoulders and sticking his skinny arms into the too long too wide sleeves, bunching the fabric up around his stinging hands and frozen fingertips. With his arms crossed he could repress the worst of the shivers and stuff his palms into his armpits.

Silva was hovering nearby; probably staring. Laughing at him? Dezel bared his teeth and hunched his shoulders, aware that the bunching fabric would make him appear larger than his scrawny size. "What? You got something to say to me?"

Apparently Silva didn't. Instead he edged back toward Zaveid, who ruffled Silva's hair and threw his head back with pure unabashed laughter. "You're a feisty one, ain'tcha? C'mon, Spiky, come help me make a fire."

"I'm not called Spiky!" Dezel snapped, and when he guessed the next question he snapped again. "I'm not telling you my name."

"Well you're just gonna have to put up with Spiky then. C'mon Spike—"

"I'm not Spike, I'm Dezel! And you shouldn't make your fire up here, idiot. It's dangerous." _Dangerous with_ **_you_ ** _around_ , he added silently, seething with himself for giving up a name so easily right after saying he wouldn't. This asshole was really getting to him, damn it.

But when Zaveid spoke again Dezel could hear the smile in his voice, stupid and goofy but seeming sincere. "Good to meet you, Dezel. You already know that I'm Zaveid, and this little guy over here is Silva." _I already knew_ **_that_ ** _too,_ Dezel thought, but kept his irritation to himself. "You two kids are gonna get along, right?"

"I'm not—" _a kid_ , he'd wanted to say, but the rest of the words caught up in his throat and turned into a fit of watery coughing. He'd just about gotten his voice back when Zaveid gave him a meaty slap on the back that almost sent him sprawling. "What the hell is wrong with you!" He managed to sputter out, but not much else before Zaveid hoisted him aloft, one-armed and easy just like he'd done with Silva. Dezel all but shrieked in response, kicking at Zaveid's bare chest even after the bastard held him out at arm's length by the scruff of his borrowed jacket.

"You know, Spiky? You're kinda a brat."

Dezel's livid cursing could be heard echoing up and down the valley. If it brought another dozen ogres down on them then fine, Dezel though. It'd be worth it just to wipe the damn smile outta this guy's voice once and for all.


End file.
